an asshole. Feminists of the time began demanding that laws be passed to protect themselves from the assholes."
Jenna Walker snorted. “I know my history. I wonder how things would have been different if women had just stood up for themselves rather than asking the countries of the day to protect them. History created a set of circumstances where it was easy for me to delude myself into believing that I didn't need intimacy with anyone.” Walker sipped her wine again and then placed the glass on the desk. “For some reason, that's changed in the last 24 hours."
"You're scared,” said Dr. Cooper, leaning forward, studying the President. “Between the Cluster and the Doomsday Dead, who wouldn't be?"
"It's more than that,” said Walker. “It's as though some deep-seated part of my psyche has been triggered, running me through a gamut of emotions. It's like when I was a young teen, before I started taking meds to deaden PMS."
Eva Cooper took another sip of wine, then looked at her watch. “Sleep will help. As I said before, you're exhausted."
President Walker retrieved her glass of wine from the desk, and was silent for some time. As she sipped the wine she stole glances of the doctor over the rim of the glass. Like herself, the doctor was a middle-aged woman. Eva Walker's nose was a little beakish and her lips were a little thin, but her wide, curious eyes entranced the President. Likewise, the doctor's body was trim—kept in good shape. “Are you scared, Eva?"
"Terrified,” admitted the Doctor, allowing her barriers to drop somewhat.
The President of the Gaean Alliance took another drink of wine. A woman who had ordered people to their death, who routinely made decisions that affected the entire galaxy, worked up courage to ask a simple question. “There's a sleeping chamber next door. Would you mind coming with me? I need someone to hold me and help me ward off the fear."
Doctor Cooper let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. “I'm not a lesbian, Madame President."
"I'm looking for the comfort of another human being—for closeness more than sex. Would you deny your President that? Or, do you think she's too much of an idiot for that?"
Eva Cooper shook her head. “I think you are a brilliant, beautiful woman and it's a tragedy that no one has told you that."
The President stood and held her hand out to the Surgeon General. Eva Cooper took the hand, and noted with almost clinical professionalism that the President's nails were cut short and practical. Jenna Walker led the way through a back, unguarded door of the Oval Office and turned into a room with a comfortable-looking, but simple double bed. Each of the women removed their jackets and shoes.
Jenna Walker looked longingly at Eva Cooper, she reached out to her. The Surgeon General trembled and backed away. Jenna looked down, sadly. Compassion overcoming fear, Eva went to the President and folded her into her arms. They sat down on the bed and Jenna laid her head against Eva's soft breasts. Jenna's breathing came heavily: from exhaustion, from fear, from lust. The two lay down, side-by-side and Eva allowed Jenna's hands to roam, to pull her blouse from her slacks, and move up against the naked skin of her back. Rigid at first, Eva began to relax and stroke Jenna's shoulders. Jenna's sleepy eyes looked into Eva's. Drawn by some force—perhaps the simple desire to be as close as possible to another human being, Jenna kissed the doctor. Eva's eyes went wide, but she was soon calmed by the President's firm hand, never leaving her back, just exploring human skin. Eva, drawn by the strength of Jenna's gaze returned the kiss, passionately, deeply. Jenna felt the hungry probing of Eva's tongue, then responded, her own tongue circling Eva's then pushing into the doctor's mouth. Jenna felt an almost unknown heat rise in her groin and her abdomen. They broke the kiss, panting for air.
For the first time in her life, Jenna Walker really understood the
Jenna Walker snorted. “I know my history. I wonder how things would have been different if women had just stood up for themselves rather than asking the countries of the day to protect them. History created a set of circumstances where it was easy for me to delude myself into believing that I didn't need intimacy with anyone.” Walker sipped her wine again and then placed the glass on the desk. “For some reason, that's changed in the last 24 hours."
"You're scared,” said Dr. Cooper, leaning forward, studying the President. “Between the Cluster and the Doomsday Dead, who wouldn't be?"
"It's more than that,” said Walker. “It's as though some deep-seated part of my psyche has been triggered, running me through a gamut of emotions. It's like when I was a young teen, before I started taking meds to deaden PMS."
Eva Cooper took another sip of wine, then looked at her watch. “Sleep will help. As I said before, you're exhausted."
President Walker retrieved her glass of wine from the desk, and was silent for some time. As she sipped the wine she stole glances of the doctor over the rim of the glass. Like herself, the doctor was a middle-aged woman. Eva Walker's nose was a little beakish and her lips were a little thin, but her wide, curious eyes entranced the President. Likewise, the doctor's body was trim—kept in good shape. “Are you scared, Eva?"
"Terrified,” admitted the Doctor, allowing her barriers to drop somewhat.
The President of the Gaean Alliance took another drink of wine. A woman who had ordered people to their death, who routinely made decisions that affected the entire galaxy, worked up courage to ask a simple question. “There's a sleeping chamber next door. Would you mind coming with me? I need someone to hold me and help me ward off the fear."
Doctor Cooper let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. “I'm not a lesbian, Madame President."
"I'm looking for the comfort of another human being—for closeness more than sex. Would you deny your President that? Or, do you think she's too much of an idiot for that?"
Eva Cooper shook her head. “I think you are a brilliant, beautiful woman and it's a tragedy that no one has told you that."
The President stood and held her hand out to the Surgeon General. Eva Cooper took the hand, and noted with almost clinical professionalism that the President's nails were cut short and practical. Jenna Walker led the way through a back, unguarded door of the Oval Office and turned into a room with a comfortable-looking, but simple double bed. Each of the women removed their jackets and shoes.
Jenna Walker looked longingly at Eva Cooper, she reached out to her. The Surgeon General trembled and backed away. Jenna looked down, sadly. Compassion overcoming fear, Eva went to the President and folded her into her arms. They sat down on the bed and Jenna laid her head against Eva's soft breasts. Jenna's breathing came heavily: from exhaustion, from fear, from lust. The two lay down, side-by-side and Eva allowed Jenna's hands to roam, to pull her blouse from her slacks, and move up against the naked skin of her back. Rigid at first, Eva began to relax and stroke Jenna's shoulders. Jenna's sleepy eyes looked into Eva's. Drawn by some force—perhaps the simple desire to be as close as possible to another human being, Jenna kissed the doctor. Eva's eyes went wide, but she was soon calmed by the President's firm hand, never leaving her back, just exploring human skin. Eva, drawn by the strength of Jenna's gaze returned the kiss, passionately, deeply. Jenna felt the hungry probing of Eva's tongue, then responded, her own tongue circling Eva's then pushing into the doctor's mouth. Jenna felt an almost unknown heat rise in her groin and her abdomen. They broke the kiss, panting for air.
For the first time in her life, Jenna Walker really understood the
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